


Bedfellows

by NeoNails



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: After Hours, Cuddling, F/M, Friendship, Helping Out a Friend, Pointless fluff, Sharing a Bed, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoNails/pseuds/NeoNails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most nights, he would visit her around 1 or 2 a.m., but there were those nights when he'd come in past 4 or 5 or once 6. Those were the nights she liked the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedfellows

_Put your arm around my shoulder_  
 _And it was good the room got colder_  
 _And we moved closer in together_  
 _Started talkin' 'bout the weather_  
 _You said tomorrow would be fun_  
 _We could watch your place in the sun_  
 _I didn't know where this was goin'  
_ _When you kissed me_

\- "Who'd Have Known?" by Lily Allen

 

* * *

Sometimes- not often, but not infrequently enough that it never happened- Terry would have a really rough night. It was pretty understandable, because Gotham was a rough place to begin with, and he was only one 18-year-old- granted, he had Wayne and her, but they were with him more emotionally than physically- and sometimes the night never ended.

He would visit her after he was done, and on those nights it was never the usual 1 or 2 a.m., but closer to 4 or 5 or once even 6. On normal nights, he would only visit for about half an hour, long enough to give her a quick recap of the night's events and snag her notes for class- not that he ever read, let alone copied, them.

But on bad nights, nights when he could barely stand up long enough to shuck off his suit and slip into one of the sets of sweatpants he always kept in her house- she was starting to consider just giving him a drawer of his own; it wasn't like she didn't have the room- nights when it was closer to sunrise than it was night, he wouldn't even bother leaving. He didn't want to risk waking up his mom and Matt, so he'd crash with her.

Those were her favorite nights.

She hated when he woke her up, she hated seeing him all bruised and bloodied from whatever bad guy had been on a rampage that night, but she always let him in, and she always let him crash.

She wasn't capable of saying no to him, anyway.

Her family was never around, so there were always an excess of beds or couches for him to sleep on, but he never left her room. She wasn't sure if he recognized this fact- probably not, because on those nights he was already half-asleep before he even hit her pillow- but she certainly wasn't going to point it out to him.

It was screwed up, and she knew that, but she got a certain perverse pleasure out of sharing a bed with Terry. He was her best friend, and in a committed relationship- even though Dana got fed up with his behavior and threatened to dump him approximately every other week- but when he passed out on her bed, without fail, he'd snake a muscular arm around her waist and haul her to his side.

She knew she was supposed to pull away, let him sleep peaceful on his side of the bed while she attempted sleep on hers- not that she was ever able to sleep very deeply after he woke her up the first time- but each time she worked up the courage to throw his arm off of her and roll over, her body would betray her, snuggling closer to his solid warmth.

She wanted to feel guilty- she _was_ guilty, dammit- but he was so comfortable and strong and in that moment it was so unbelievably _perfect_ that she would wind up falling asleep wrapped around him before she could give herself the mental kick in the ass and move away.

Even though she _knew_ it was wrong, and she knew she shouldn't crave the way his body felt against hers, each night she found herself secretly hoping he'd show up late, just so she could get one more night of them sharing a bed.

She was a masochist, she was sure of it, especially after the night when, delirious with sleep and possibly a rare pleasant dream dancing in his head, Terry hauled her even closer and buried his face in her neck, pressing a soft kiss under her jaw and mumbled incoherent words into her skin.

Her whole body lit up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July after that, and she couldn't think of that night without a heavy blush spreading over her dark features.

Eventually, one of them was going to push their tenuous boundaries too far and do something they would both regret.

Until then, she was content to spend the occasional night guiltily cuddling with her best friend.


End file.
